From Bubble Guppies to The Help: Messages We Approve

The lovely Madelyn Simone came to visit this week – what fun! We made waffles, read books, played outside and splashed in the bathtub. It’s great to be a grandmother! We managed to keep the television viewing to a minimum, but we did have to watch Bubble Guppies, enjoying the episode where they get a Bubble Guppy Puppy – try saying that 5 times in a row. We’ve come a long way since our days of cuddling on the couch and watching Say Yes to the Dress all morning!   

During this visit, I was especially aware of the messages she’s being bombarded with at the ripe old age of 2 ½.  Yes, I did spare her the 1 billion dollars worth of messages approved by the presidential candidates, but even Bubble Guppies is bookended with child-focused advertising – cereal, Barbie dolls, and yes, a Bubble Guppies fan club! I will admit, I do like the Bubble Guppies, as Molly and friends bring a rhythm and curiosity to pre-school learning that’s contagious. If you hear me asking “what time is it?”, be sure to answer “It’s time for lunch.” But I have maintained my self control and resisted the urge to join the fan club – at least for now.

So what other messages is Madelyn hearing? Should I worry about them? After all, she’s too young to understand, isn’t she? Should I be concerned about the talking cash register that asks, “will that be cash or credit, Princess?”  What is she soaking in?

When we travel back and forth to Canton, even before she’s buckled into her car seat, Madelyn asks, “Songs?” She’s ready for the Wee Sing CDs, now a staple of our time in the car. The nursery rhymes and songs are classics, many that I learned as a child, sang to my sons, and now sing along with Madelyn.  Even in these silly songs she learns about consequences. If you’re one of the little monkeys, you may fall off and bump your head – and in at least one version, “that’s what you get for jumping on the bed!” Another speaks to the danger of sticking your head in a little skunk hole – not good.

Then there are the messages that work their way through the movies that are billed as children’s fare. Some say, ‘this is what boys look like, this is what girls look like,’ while others have really sad or scary scenes. Madelyn is enraptured with Finding Nemo and Despicable Me, but both films raise issues of loss and abandonment, as do many of the timeless fairy tales. Is she ready for that?  

So what’s a parent, a grandparent to do?  We can use discretion in what we allow the kids to watch on TV and in the movies, and as the children get older, we can talk about the messages they hear and see throughout their day. But we can’t raise our kids in a bubble, keeping them totally protected from the world around them.

If you’ve read the book or seen the film The Help, “you is kind, you is smart, you is important” echoes long after “the end.” Aibileen Clark works as a maid for a woman who doesn’t have much time for or interest in her young daughter, Mae Mobley. So as often as Aibileen can, she reminds the little girl that she is kind, smart and important, reinforcing a sense of worth that she is not receiving from her emotionally distant mother. Now, Lauren and I are deliberately using those words with Madelyn and adding a few of our own, pouring into her our vision for the girl she is growing into and the woman she will become.

 

We can wring our hands in frustration over the power of the messages that inundate our kids’ lives, but we can also take matters into our own hands to make sure that our children, grandchildren and the kids in our community hear the alternate messages that we choose for them. Say them with me. You will not be abandoned. We care about you. You are kind. You are smart. And yes, you are important. 

Better Off?

So, are you better off today than you were four years ago? That’s the question that’s being bandied around the airwaves as we count down the days to the presidential election. 

In 1965, my parents lived in a comfortable home that they (and the bank) owned.  They had one car, three kids, and my dad worked one job as a carpenter while my mother stayed home to care for the house and the family. We walked to the neighborhood school, and came home for lunch every day.  We had a swimming pool in the backyard because my dad’s job didn’t allow time for vacations in the summer. One black and white television, 3 channels. One phone. The Buffalo Bills were AFL champions. The Browns went 11-3.

Fast forward 25 years. In 1990 Larry and I lived in a comfortable home.  We drove two cars, had three kids, and both worked long hours while wishing we had Alice from the Brady Bunch to clean our house and take care of the family. Three color televisions, cable. Two phones, one that was cordless.  The Browns were 3-13. Were we better off?

It’s now 2012. Our adult son and daughter-in-law live in a small home that they and the bank own, and yes, it’s probably worth less than what they paid for it six years ago. They both work full-time, Greg goes to school full time, and the lovely Madelyn Simone has gone to day care since she was 8 weeks old, except for the glorious day each week we spend together. They have Direct TV, with a gazillion stations so we can watch Bubble Guppies, wireless internet, and i-phones.  For the record – Madelyn does not have a cell phone, although she knows what to do with mine. The Browns are 0-5.  Are we better off? How do we define “better off”?

If we’re truly a nation of spoiled, self-centered materialists, then I suppose the question is an appropriate one to ask. Oh, that sounds judgmental, doesn’t it? But at some point, it can’t be all about the stuff we have. When do we ask, “Do my neighbors have what they need?” rather than “Do we have everything we want?”

Life is more than fame or fortune. Do I wish I had more money in my pocket today? Sure, who doesn’t? But would I trade an extra handful of cash or a fancier cell phone for the time spent with my precious granddaughter? Absolutely not.

Here are the more vital questions. Should there be a safety net of protection for the most vulnerable in our country, or isn’t that our problem? Should social security be protected because I want to get what’s coming to me, or should we work together to find solutions that will insure that those without adequate resources in retirement are taken care of (the original goal of social security)? Should I vote “no” on the school levy so that I have more money of my own while our community’s kids rattle around in that dreary, decrepit middle school? The answers we give to these kinds of questions define what living in community, and yes, what living in America mean to us. My parents knew what it used to mean. Say it with me: “It’s not all about me!” Does it still mean that today?

 Back to the question: are we better off? The answer for me is not about whether my family is better off economically than we were four years ago. The answer has less to do with who the president is and more to do with the fact that we have an openly elected president (even with all the political commercials) and not a dictator. We have freedom of speech – we can blog to our heart’s delight and protest without fear of incarceration. We’re working toward having affordable health care for everyone.  All of our children can go to school – girls and boys. It’s not like that everywhere.   

Those are the reasons we’re better off as Americans. I may not be able to afford a new car this year, but maybe the Browns will beat the Bengals – then we’ll be better off for sure!

We Approve This Message

“If you can’t say something nice about somebody, don’t say anything.”  This oft-heard expression is one of those lessons learned in childhood that we repeat to our children and grandchildren.  While I haven’t said it yet to the lovely Madelyn Simone (probably because she’s still not fully verbal), I’m sure that will be needed soon enough.

Mr. Romney and Mr. Obama, I’m guessing you’ve heard that phrase because your moms got it in a genetic marker labeled ‘Mother,’ along with “Don’t run with that, you’ll poke your eye out” and “Your face is going to freeze that way.” I also know that the campaign experts keep telling you that attack ads work.  But here’s some free advice – they’re getting on my nerves.  Of course you have to say something about your opponent – but there’s got to be a better way.

The “don’t say anything” rule of childhood does need adjusting as we approach adulthood, because we do need to talk about the qualifications a person brings to his/her quest for leadership.  We shouldn’t vote for someone just because of her family name or his great hair, but when’s the last time we elected a bald president?  I guess hair does matter, but character matters more.  

So how do we talk about a person’s character, whether that of a presidential candidate or a community leader?  Can we do so by “speaking the truth in love,” as the biblical letter to the Ephesians suggests?  That’s a valuable rule of thumb in personal relationships – is it possible to extend its counsel to the political arena?  What would that look like?

Yet the issues facing our country and our communities go beyond the character of the man or woman providing leadership, for as much as character counts, so do policies.  We were treated to public verbiage regarding a number of policy issues through the televised debate this week, but if Facebook posts, Twitter tweets and lunchroom conversations are any indication, we weren’t too satisfied with the process or the results.  There have got to be other ways to sort out the issues that concern us.   

That’s why I’m so pleased with a movement afoot to bring a measure of civil discourse to Ashland through the use of a forum model, using what is known as democratic deliberation (as in democracy, not the Democratic party).  It stems from the premise that governments and citizens ought to work together – what a great idea!   A forum in this context is the process where people take time to hear other people’s opinion and stories so that a common ground can be reached on issues that impact all of us.

The Center for Civic Life at Ashland University partnered with the Ashland University Center for Non-Violence to sponsor one such discussion the night after the first debate, bringing a variety of views on the national debt to the table of respectful conversation.  There was plenty of lip service to the national debt during the debate, but it was in the setting of the forum that the problem and potential solutions began to make sense. 

 It’s the premise that matters in civil discourse.  In a debate or argument, the most powerful, polished and persuasive voice wins – just listen to the political pundits after the debate if you don’t believe me.   But in the forum model, the goal is to move towards consensus, not victory. The Center for Civic Life (or their umbrella organization, the National Issues Forums) does not advocate for one specific solution or point of view.  Instead, the process helps all of us weigh the pros and cons of the choices while meeting together with people who have an interest in economics, children and families, education, civil rights, the environment, health, or government.

The next subject to be wrestled with by the Center for Civic Life is prescription drug abuse, scheduled for October 23^rd at the Dauch building at AU.  If you’re tired of talking back to the political commercials barging into your living room, stop by and join the voices of our community as we name, frame and deliberate together.  We’re Ashland, and together we approve this message.

In the Gathering Place

In the Buckeye Nation, the rallying cry heard round the state is “O-H,” with the automatic response, “I-O.”  Diehard Ohio State fans take special pride if their infant’s first recognizable utterance is “I-O” rather than “ma-ma.”  A call and response can often be heard in church settings, political rallies and the sports arena, but I was surprised to hear a similar pattern at the recent reception for the first Kroc Center Elder in Resident.

 “If in doubt,” the speaker called, and the voices replied, “rip it out.”  The honoree of the evening was June Metcalf, an Ashland octogenarian whose gift for knitting and crocheting will be featured over the next few weeks.  She’s been a mainstay at the Kroc Center since the doors opened, present in the lobby on Tuesdays and Wednesday to share her love for all things knitted and crocheted.  In the early days, she often sat alone, sometimes joined by a staff member or two who was attempting to find the “knit one, purl two” rhythm of the needles. 

Now, three years later, you’ve got to come early to get one of the comfy seats, as the lobby area fills with people initially drawn together by an interest in yarn, but now held together by a sense of belonging.  While their rallying cry may be “if in doubt, rip it out,” another word of wisdom from June is her oft-repeated phrase, “you can do it.”  That spirit of encouragement and affirmation is contagious, and made June the obvious choice for the first Elder in Residence.      

It’s been three months since Larry and I handed over the reins of leadership at the Salvation Army, and I’ve had time to ponder on the hopes we’d brought to the center, both from our own hearts and experiences and from Joan Kroc’s legacy and vision.  Many of those dreams were expressed in the naming of the spaces in the new facility.

It made sense to call the gym area the Fun Zone, and lots of fun has been experienced in its space and in the companion Field House (soccer field).  Between the roller skaters, the bounce house bouncers, the budding soccer stars and the graceful dancers at the KC Big Band events, there’ve been plenty of smiles and lots of laughter in the building, especially within the walls of the Fun Zone.  Good choice of names.

A space for worship at the Salvation Army was also essential, and the chapel with its glorious stained-glass wall invites many to express their faith through prayer and praise.  Yet we chose to name a smaller room the “Sacred Space,” and that’s become a home for all kinds of sacred activities, as people have come together to study the Bible, to support families through the Salvation Army’s LINCS program and the Family and Children’s First Council care team meetings, and to simply have a quiet setting for personal counsel under the watchful eyes of the stained-glass Jesus and the children.  Another fitting choice. 

A third name assigned in those early days of planning was the Gathering Place, a title that didn’t seem to stick, as most of the time we simply called it the Lobby.  Boring.  Yes, it is a vestibule, an entrance hall to the facility that serves as a reception area for the Center.  But as I thought about June and the knitting circle, I realized that whether it’s called the Gathering Place or not, this entrance area has become the center’s front porch, a place for all people in our community to gather together.   It’s rivaled in the summer by the Adirondack chairs of the backyard spraypark, but year round, the Gathering Place brings people of all ages, backgrounds, and interests together.  While a sense of inclusion may have started with Joan’s dream, it has been richly nurtured by June’s faithfulness.

I can’t wait to see who the next Elder in Residence will be – and what his or her gifts are bringing to our community.  But in the meantime, whether in the Gathering Place at the Kroc or the yarn aisle at the store, I’m ready.  If I hear “when in doubt,” I’m answering, “rip it out!”  Yeah, June! 

Team Hope!

We wear messages around our wrists, both to remind us of a person or of a cause that we support, and to witness to those around us about what matters most to us.  In grade school it was a friendship bracelet, woven of various strands that braided together the hearts of little girls.  The bracelet of my teen years was the Viet Nam POW/MIA bracelet, remembering and praying.  In the 1990’s, it was a WWJD bracelet, asking What Would Jesus Do, the life-changing question raised in Charles Sheldon’s book In His Steps.   Over the years we’ve worn silicone bracelets in the colors of our favorite cause, in the hues of school spirit, and to proclaim our faith.  Now, Ashland County residents will be sporting blue bands around our wrists, signifying that we are a member of Team Hope, this year’s focus for the United Way campaign.

In the battle for hearts and lives that Team Hope fights daily in the United Way partner agencies that serve our community, the adversaries are stealthy.  There’s no one menacing opponent in the boxing ring, no eye-to-eye contact with the enemy in a goal-line stand.  The forces and circumstance that challenge hope sneak up on us, often starting as deficits in childhood that persist in adulthood, and sometimes are exasperated by self-inflicted wounds.  At other times, the attack is random and catastrophic – a fire, an accident, a pink slip, a dreaded diagnosis.  But however they come, they hit hard, threatening to overwhelm our brothers and sisters who lack the resources to handle them.    

                My first published book was entitled The Heartwork of Hope.  As I sat at the United Way campaign kick-off breakfast on Thursday, I kept thinking about that title.  I worked for 34 years in Salvation Army ministry that believes in the heartwork of hope, the spiritual journey with its works of faith, confession, repentance, and service to others.  Yet I was struck by a similar phrase vying for my attention– the hard work of hope. 

                Hope is hard work.  For someone battling depression, it’s hard work to get out of bed and face the day.  It’s hard work for the unemployed to beat the pavement (or the internet )in search of a job that can feed your family.  And it’s hard work to hope for a better tomorrow when the doors of today are slammed in your face.

The people of Ashland get that.  We know that some of our neighbors struggle every day, working hard to hold onto a thread of hope.  That’s why the staff and volunteers of United Way work hard all year to raise funds and to increase awareness of the needs of people in Ashland County. 

If I’ve discovered one thing since moving to Ashland six years ago, it’s that Ashlanders are not afraid of hard work.  If it helps our brothers and sisters, we’ll lug boxes, plant seeds, wait on tables, rake leaves, read to children, test-drive cars, grill Wonder dogs, and even decorate Christmas trees.  And yes, we’ll give sacrificially as well to keep that hope alive. 

At the kickoff breakfast, the Samaritan Regional Health System team was courageous in naming the charter members of the opposing team: despair and apathy.   Be on notice, you two: as Team Hope members, we’re calling you out.  Team Despair – we know you try your best to get us to lose hope but we’re refusing to give in.  Team Apathy – we’re not joining up.  We’re committed to care about our sisters and brothers.  We’re not willing to slink around our community with our eyes to the ground, being bullied by despair and refusing to look hope in the face.  We’re donning our Live United T-shirts, stretching the Team Hope bracelets around our wrists, and taking up the challenge.   Team Hope!  Team Hope!

It’s who we are as people in community.  As we live and work together, we can be a community where, as the Samaritan volunteers proclaimed, “despair and apathy don’t get a second chance. “   One donut, one dime, one dollar, one donation at a time.   

It's Time for Some Real Football!

I enjoy reading  By the Way, the Times-Gazette’s review of the entertaining odds and ends from around the county that’s published each Saturday.  A recent comment noted that the Ashland police had a number of calls concerning what sounded like a cannon being fired throughout the evening.  You guessed it – it was the celebratory cannon at Jack Miller stadium, as the Ashland University Eagles scored against their opponents.  Yes, my Ashland friends, football is back!  I’ve had my first popcorn at Community Stadium, and all is right with the world.  Still waiting for those funnel cake fries at AU! 

I’ll agree not to write about the Cleveland Browns if you don’t remind me how badly the Buffalo Bills are doing – again.  Hope springs eternal, but it just doesn’t’ seem right that Cleveland and Buffalo sports fans can’t catch a break.  Out of the 19 million people who play fantasy football, at least half of them are probably discouraged Browns or Bills fans – at least in fantasy football they stand a chance of winning!  OK, I’ll stop now, because football isn’t really about the Browns, the Bills and the team that wears black and gold.  No, we’ve got high school and college football!

Ohioans watch with delight as the Buckeyes march up and down the field at the Horseshoe.  And Eagle fever has taken hold in our town as we head to the stadium or listen for the cannon, especially since our hometown boys are finding success on the campus gridiron.  But still, there’s nothing like Friday night at a high school football game

What continues to draw Ashland county residents to watch the Arrows, Mounties, Redbirds Falcons and Pirates?   After all, it’s just a game, and potentially a risky game at that.  I was disappointed but also relieved when our oldest son chose marching band over football, although when I saw him playing a bass drum while standing on his head, I did cringe a bit.  But athletics, like life, involves risk, and participation in high school sports helps our adolescents focus on achievement, train their bodies, and trust their team – lessons that will last well into adulthood.

Yet it’s so much more than a game.  My high school had the tradition of a T-NT game that concluded the regular season as Tonawanda battled North Tonawanda for the championship of the twin cities – nearly as spirited as the Massillon-McKinley rivalry.  A car parade, pep rally and bonfire led up to the football contest, and as we cheered our team on, it was with a spirit of community pride.  It sounds silly from the perspective of nearly 40 years, but we were proud to sing, “We are the warriors, the mighty, mighty warriors, everywhere we go, people ought to know, who we are, so we tell them.”  Win or lose (and we lost more than we won), we were proud to be from Tonawanda High School.  School pride, community pride – Friday nights help us to stand tall.        

It’s also about perseverance.   I want to give a perseverance shout-out to the Mapleton Mounties.  They’ve struggled on the football field for quite some time, and lost their first game of this season this year.  We watched Coach Ray Frisbee play for GlenOak  and AU, and felt his pain with that one more opening loss.  Yet Ray had hope: “We obviously wanted a better first half but we'll regroup and find a way to get better by next week.”  That’s what perseverance is about, and the next two weeks brought two wins to their record.  That’s a lesson we want to teach our kids.

And ultimately, it’s about our kids.  While there’s only one star quarterback per team, there are hundreds of kids in Ashland County who practice day in and day out, play in the band,  leap into the air on the cheerleader squad, excel on the soccer field, golf course and cross country trail, and  rock the student section of the stadium.  On Friday nights, we as a community have the opportunity to embrace our kids, honor their perseverance, and send them the message, “we’ve got your back.”      

Fight on, Arrows, Mounties, Falcons, Redbirds and Pirates.  See you Friday night!

Remembering . . .

Larry and I were privileged to serve with the Salvation Army in the aftermath of the World Trade Center attack of 9-11.  Returning to our room each night, I submitted a column to the Canton Repository, helping the folks at home to connect with the devastation and hope in New York.  The following was my first submission (10-3-01).  Seems like yesterday . . .

The images of our first day in New York post 9-11 both assaulted and comforted us.  The assaulting images hit as we arrived in New York City late Sunday night, with our first sight a grave reminder of September 11.  That grand old lady of the city, the Empire State Building, stood alone, abandoned by her bookend rivals.

The Salvation Army headquarters on 14^th Street was our destination, with a brief orientation as to what we would be expected to do.  Our first day included stops at the medical examiner’s office; Worth Street, the one-stop social service office for displaced workers, families and airline employees; and Ground Zero.

Heading downtown, we could see the dust and smoke as we approached the site and passed through the checkpoints staffed by police and military.  The access to “the zone” was very limited, but our Salvation Army credentials got us through, and we worked with a team to evaluate the needs of the feeding sites and to plan a reorganization and cleanup effort that lasted until midnight.

Even the constant television coverage since the attack had not prepared me for the totality of the devastation.  Beyond the tangled mass of rubble that had once proudly graced the sky, the blocks surrounding the World Trade Center site were bombed out, an empty Borders store staring at me from the destruction.

Yet amid the horror, there were images of hope.  Neighborhood fire stations, with their altars of flowers and pictures.  Incredible stories of the workers.  Letters from children from all over the world hanging from Salvation Army and Red Cross canteens.  The man who drove to Manhattan from New Jersey in a rented truck with snack bags packed by the children in his school, each one with a crayoned message of hope for those who serve. 

If the terrorists managed to destroy the buildings on West Street in lower Manhattan, it is obvious that they were unable to destroy the spirit of the people of New York – or of America.